


for you, my dear, I fight

by rcmsw



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kid Fic, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 14:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10969443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rcmsw/pseuds/rcmsw
Summary: Cassian’s father is dead before his 7th birthday. He doesn’t remember celebrating it, but he knows his papá was not there.When his daughter turns 7, Cassian is with her.For Cassian Week.





	for you, my dear, I fight

Cassian’s father is dead before his 7th birthday. He doesn’t remember celebrating it, but he knows his papá was not there. 

As the years go on, his birthdays get less and less notable. His distant memories of a special sweet and songs in his language are replaced by the realities of ration bars and the echo of blaster fire. Childhood wishes of toys and late bedtimes are replaced by mission objectives - get in, get out and stay alive. 

His memories of his father are few to begin with, and they too dwindle and fade as the years go on. After Jyn tells him the news of their own coming child, he struggles to latch onto even one. A bursting panic wages against the weightless joy he feels at the thought. Alongside the happiness, fear settles heavy into his bones over the next months as he wonders how he can be a father when he can hardly remember having one. 

All his concern melts away when she is cradled, crying and pink, into the crook of his arms. 

She is the living, breathing symbol of the hope that has carried him through his life. She is what he has fought for. She is the reason he has lied, killed and compromised. And she is worth all of it. 

When his daughter turns 7, Cassian is there. 

She sits on his lap, feet hitting his shins lightly as she jumps and squirms in anticipation of her cake and presents. Her light, bubbly laugh fills the room as her family sings to her. When they are done, he sings another version softly just to her, from his home, in their language. 

Resting her little head against him, she feels the hum of the song rumble in his chest. She looks up at him with his own dark brown eyes, but her smile is her mother’s, beautiful and beaming. She flashes it more than her mother does, but it has never lost its shine. Once a hardened intelligence officer, Cassian now turns to putty at the sight of it. The look of admiration that brightens her tiny features when she stares up at him strikes him every time. He is no longer a soldier, a spy, an assassin. Instead he is papá. 

After the presents have been torn into and the cake has been eaten, she runs outside, dragging Poe with her. They play rebels. Cassian watches them from the window, leaning against the counter as Jyn comes up behind to wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his shoulders. He grins, marveling, not for the first time, at the peace and joy of this new life. 

Outside Poe finds a spot up above, flying his pretend X-Wing with the same skill as his mother, using her call sign. His girl holds her own on the ground, her index finger and thumb extended like a blaster. 

But no blaster rounds reach his ears. No booms of X-wings or Tie fighters fill the air. The only sounds are the laughter of children who have never known war. 

For them, it’s just a game. It’s not real.

Cassian says something like a prayer that it never will be. 

 

He’s nearly struck down when he sees her in the dark brown coat, combat boots laced up, blaster on her hip and the orange resistance insignia above her heart. 

Part of him thought he would be overcome with pride, that his heart would lift at the sight of her dressed for the cause. Though he is proud, the feeling is overpowered by a sharp twinge in his stomach, like a knife being shoved into his gut. His chest aches, a heavy weight pressing down on him, and he cannot breathe. 

This was never supposed to happen, he thinks, she was never supposed to have to do this.  
Everything he and Jyn had done for the Rebellion was supposed to build a galaxy where she was safe. They had fought and killed and sacrificed, and had been comforted by the idea that she never would. And yet here she stands, dressed to fight. 

Fear rises in him, threatens to drown him. He knows how capable she is, how smart and strong and fierce. She can take on this war and win, but she shouldn’t have to. She is able and willing to fight all the darkness in the galaxy alone, but that doesn’t mean he ever wanted her to. 

He know she has her parents’ skill, he prays she has their luck. 

She smiles up at him with the familiar affection, and though her features are no longer small, the look still strikes a chord with him. Her hands reach out for his, giving them a comforting squeeze. His mask must be slipping with his age, or she’s just too good at reading people. 

“I’ll be alright, papá,” she tells him, with a confidence that starts to convince him. “I learned from the best.” 

The fear never fades, but faith finds its way back into his heart. For him, she still embodies hope. He does not realize he does the same for her.


End file.
